The Naughty List (You're Mine)
by TunaEveryNight
Summary: Rayna performs at a Christmas concert, and Deacon takes issue with her stage attire.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: In my stories, Deacon and Rayna are happy, healthy, and enjoying the long and rich Happily Ever After that they both deserve.

* * *

"Ray? You home, baby?" he asked, walking into their bedroom and dropping his messenger bag on the sofa at the end of the bed.

"In here," she called.

He shrugged off his black pea coat, dropping it on top of his bag, and walked into the large master bathroom in search of his wife.

"_Damn_, baby," he said, stopping in his tracks. Rayna was standing in front of the large, full length mirror wearing an incredibly sexy, siren red, leather dress. It was strapless and short..._unbelievably_ short...and just barely covered her ass. "Look at you," he said, his voice suddenly husky with desire.

Her eyes met his in the mirror, "You like it?" she asked, her hands smoothing over the fabric.

"Like it?" he asked a little incredulously. "Yeah," he walked up behind her and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent and placing a small trail of hot, wet kisses across her bare skin. "I like it _a lot_," he growled against her naked shoulder. He trailed his hands down her bare arms and twined his fingers with hers. There was a long, gold zipper running down the entire length of the dress, and she had it unzipped a good four inches or so. Not only were the tops of her breasts exposed, but the entirely of her cleavage was on display as well. The shiny fabric hugged her curves tightly and the six inch, red stilettos she wore accentuated her long, toned legs. "You look like every single item on the naughty list all wrapped up in one delicious package," he teased.

"Well, thank you, babe," she grinned, fluffing her hair and shifting her hips in order to view the dress from a different angle.

"So, is this my Christmas present?" he asked, nibbling her earlobe. His right hand moved to the center of her dress, just below her breasts, and lightly fingered the zipper pull. "'Cause I sure wouldn't mind unwrappin' it."

"No," she giggled. "The stylist sent over a few outfits for that Christmas concert we're doing. Most of them were awful, but I think this one might work."

"What?" he asked, his eyes widening in shock as he took a step backwards. "You can't be serious, Ray. You can't wear this on stage."

"Why not?" she asked, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. "What's wrong with it?"

"Are you kiddin' me?" he asked again. "Baby, this is way too sexy."

She turned around and raised her eyebrows, "It's _supposed_ to be sexy," she challenged. "You've never had a problem with my stage outfits before."

"'Cause you've never worn something like this before, Ray," he said, his voice incredulous. "Baby, I ain't got no problems with you dressin' sexy," he explained. "You know that. But _this_? This is inappropriate."

"How is this inappropriate?" she asked defensively, her voice steadily getting louder. "Everything is fully covered."

"Fully covered!? You're 'bout one hiccup away from completely fallin' outta that dress and you know it."

She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly in exasperation. She turned around and walked towards their walk in closet while he followed closely behind. There were several unzipped garment bags hanging off one of the closet rods, and a large pile of discarded clothing crumpled up on the floor.

"You're being ridiculous," she said as she riffled through the garment bags before pulling out a stretchy gold dress and holding it up to her frame. She twisted her body around trying to imagine how the dress would look before quickly dismissing it and placing it back on the hanger. "This concert is really important...for me _and_ for Highway 65. I need to look my best."

CMT was hosting a huge, holiday-themed, benefit concert featuring the biggest and brightest stars in country music. After some impressive negotiating, Bucky had not only secured Rayna a spot on the line up, but he'd also agreed that she'd perform a duet with a relatively new artist in exchange for a second performance slot for The Exes. Having Highway 65 featured so prominently in a two hour, prime time special would be good for the entire label, and Rayna wasn't taking any chances.

"Baby, I know what a big deal this is," he argued. "That don't mean you gotta go out on stage half naked."

"I'm going to be out there performing with a twenty-three year old kid, Deacon," she said, pulling a green, velvet dress off the rack. She eyed the dress for a moment before tossing it towards the reject pile in disgust. "I need to look young. _Sexy_." She grabbed a long red, sparkly jumpsuit and inspected it with a critical eye. "I can't exactly go out on stage wearing mom jeans and some hideous Christmas sweater."

Landon Tyler was an up-and-coming performer whose first single had been a huge crossover hit. Deacon could barely turn on the radio without hearing his song being played at least once. He knew the writers who had collaborated on the album, and he strongly suspected that they were solely responsible for the catchy single while Landon himself had probably only contributed the ridiculous hip hop style rap that was becoming more and more popular in the country/pop genre these days.

Even though Landon's music wasn't Deacon's cup of tea, he couldn't deny that the kid was popular as hell. The girls had been completely starstruck when they'd found out their mama was performing with him on stage. Daphne had danced around the kitchen squealing, and then both girls had relentlessly begged Rayna to introduce them to the up-and-comer. Bucky had reminded Rayna several times that this performance would help expose her to a younger, broader audience, and Deacon knew she worried about that. The country music industry had changed so drastically over the last few years and, unfortunately, an artist's image was more important than ever.

"You can look sexy without having to wear that ridiculous excuse of an outfit," he said, his voice rising as quickly as his temper. "I don't want my wife runnin' around on stage with her boobs fallin' outta her dress. I won't have it!"

"Excuse me!?" she turned to face him, her eyes blazing with angry indignation. "You want to try that again, babe?" she challenged, the warning in her voice more than evident.

Logically, Deacon knew that he needed to tread carefully. Rayna was stubborn by nature, she always had been, and he knew that directly challenging her would only cause her to dig her heels in deeper. But he was stubborn, too, and he hated the thought of her prancing around on national television in such a provocative outfit. There had been so many performances over the years, so many skimpy outfits that he thought crossed the line, but things were different now. He was her husband. And he didn't want his wife traipsing all over stage and screen with her damn boobs on display for the whole world to see.

"You can't wear that, Rayna," he stated firmly, his jaw clenching tightly and his eyes daring her to argue. "I won't have it."

"Oh, yeah?" she'd challenged, her breathing ragged and angry. "Watch me!" she bit out through gritted teeth, storming past him and slamming the bathroom door behind her.

* * *

Rayna stomped towards the vanity and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She turned her body from one side to the other and frowned. Deacon was right. This dress was a little too much. But he should have said that. Calmly. Rationally. She hadn't been sold on this dress. She had still been looking at other options, and she'd even considered calling her stylist and asking her to send another batch of outfits over for her to look at.

But then Deacon had stormed in, all indignant outrage, and started spouting off about what she was allowed and _not allowed_ to wear on stage.

Rayna had never responded well to people telling her what to do, and Deacon knew that better than anyone. He'd been there when she was sixteen years old and her father had threatened to kick her out of his home if she didn't follow his rules. And Deacon had watched her turn right around and walk straight out of that damn house. He'd seen her argue with label executives when they insisted she scrap her own songs and record something more traditionally country. He'd seen her stand her ground against video producers who wanted her to wear skimpy outfits and writhe around in raunchy music videos.

And now, as far as she was concerned, she was stuck wearing this damn dress because Rayna Jaymes did not back down from a fight. Not with anyone.

"Goddamn it," she muttered, kicking off her heels. She walked over to the tub and turned on the water. She made sure it was just the right temperature and then added a generous amount of bubble bath. She pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail and slowly began removing her makeup.

The truth was, Deacon didn't really understand what she was up against. They'd always had very different aspirations for their careers. Deacon had wanted to record a few, well-received albums and have just enough name recognition to land steady gigs. As long as he earned enough money to cover his modest expenses and provide for his family in Natchez, he was content.

She'd always had big dreams, though, and after years and years of hard work, she'd made those dreams a reality. She'd sold millions of records, she'd headlined world tours, she'd started her own record label, and she'd earned a small fortune along the way.

She was a huge, country music superstar. But the industry was changing more and more every day, and she found herself competing against an increasingly young stable of girls. She was a woman in her mid-forties competing against girls barely old enough to drive with their naked midriffs, and their auto-tuned hits, and their millions of Youtube subscribers. If wearing a sexy dress on stage helped her stay relevant and allowed her to keep the career she'd worked so hard for, then so be.

She undressed quickly, tossing the dress carelessly on the bathroom floor, and gingerly stepped into the tub before sinking down into the fragrant bubbles. Deacon's indignant behavior had caught her off guard, but she knew she could've handled things better, as well. She hated fighting with Deacon, especially over something as silly and inconsequential as a dress. She was going to give both of them a little time to cool down, and then she was going to find her husband and make things right.

* * *

A little more than twenty four hours later, Deacon was storming through the backstage area of the Bridgestone Arena. To say he was pissed off was an understatement. He was totally, thoroughly, one hundred percent livid.

He and Rayna had made up the night before. After their little spat over the dress, she had disappeared into the bathroom to take a long, calming soak in the tub, and he'd stomped off to the kitchen to start dinner. He was a family man now, and it didn't matter that he was pissed off or that he'd just had a fight with his wife. The girls still needed to eat dinner on time, and the dishwasher still needed to be unloaded.

He'd just been pouring the spaghetti noodles into the strainer when Rayna had walked into the kitchen. She'd stood timidly next to the kitchen island and waited patiently for him to finish. He'd turned towards her, leaning casually against the sink and drying his hands on one of their monogrammed kitchen towels.

"I'm sorry," she'd spoken softly. She'd been wearing a soft, cotton t-shirt, pajama shorts, and a pair of ancient, wool socks that had once belonged to him. Her hair had been a mess, and he'd thought she looked absolutely beautiful. "I shouldn't have stormed off like that."

"I'm sorry, too, baby," he'd said keeping his voice quiet. The girls had been doing their homework in the family room and he hadn't wanted them to know that he and Rayna had been fighting. "I shouldn't have gotten mad. And I definitely shouldn't have spoken to you like that," he'd said, stepping towards her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Forgive me?" he'd asked.

"Yes," she'd answered with a small smile, draping her hands around his neck and pulling him closer. "Do you forgive me?"

"Of course, baby." He'd placed a sweet kiss on her mouth and had just begun to tease her bottom lip when the oven timer had gone off signaling that the garlic bread was finished. He'd moved to the oven, and she'd started taking plates out of the cabinet. They'd shared a peaceful dinner with the girls and the entire, silly fight had been forgotten.

At least he thought it had. Until he'd walked into her dressing room fifteen minutes earlier and saw her wearing the same goddamn dress that had started the fight to begin with.

Once they'd arrived at the Bridgestone, they had gone their separate ways. He'd gone to make sure that the band was all here and set up for the performance tonight, and she'd headed backstage to get dressed. Once he'd made sure everything was ready to go, he'd made his way back to her dressing room, knocking lightly on the door before letting himself in. She had been standing in the middle of the room while the makeup artist painted something clear and glossy on her lips and the hair dresser fussed over the tight curls falling down her back.

"Hey, babe," she'd spoken as soon as he'd walked in. "Is the band all set to go?"

"The hell are you wearin,' Ray?" he'd asked, his voice incredulous.

Her head had snapped towards him and her eyes had narrowed in defiance. "A dress," she'd answered, tightly. "You should recognize it. It's the same dress I picked out last night."

"I thought we agreed you weren't gonna wear that," he'd bit out, trying to keep from raising his voice.

Rayna's eyes had flashed dangerously, but she'd quickly reeled it in.

"Would y'all give us a minute, please?" she'd asked politely, as her glam squad scurried out of the room.

He'd taken a deep, labored breath as he'd waited for the door to close behind them.

"What the hell, Ray?" he'd asked through gritted teeth once they were alone. "I thought we talked about this."

"We did talk about it. And I told you I was wearing it."

"You apologized," he'd argued, his voice getting steadily louder.

"Yes," she'd shot back angrily. "I apologized for leaving the room and not finishing our discussion. I never agree to wear a different dress."

"No," he'd said, shaking his head furiously. "You can't wear that. Change into something else."

"I am not changing into something else," she'd yelled exasperated. "This is the dress I've chosen, and this is the dress I'm going to wear."

"Ray," he'd started just as a knock sounded on the door. "Not now!" he'd hollered.

"Ray?" Bucky had poked his head around the door and immediately felt the tension in the room. "Oh," he'd faltered, "I'm sorry. Is this a bad time?"

"Yes," Deacon had answered, clenching his jaw tightly.

"No," Rayna had argued. "It's not, Bucky," she'd said, cutting her eyes towards Deacon, "What's going on?"

"I've got the sound tech with me," Bucky had said uncertainly. "He's hear to get you mic'd up. Then, you're on stage in ten."

"Sure," she'd said, smiling at the young man standing behind Bucky. "Come on in."

Deacon had bristled in the corner, and Bucky had done his very best to avoid eye contact with both of them.

"Hi, Miss Jaymes," the sound tech reached out to shake her head. "I just need to...Oh!" the kid had visibly floundered once he'd seen Rayna's outfit. His eyes had run quickly up and down her body before blatantly getting lost in her cleavage. He'd made a valiant effort to move his eyes back up to her face before speaking. "Um," he'd stuttered nervously, "If you'll just turn around for me, please, I'll get you all hooked up."

Rayna had given him a tight smile before turning around and pulling her hair over her shoulder.

Deacon had stared daggers at the kid while he'd fumbled to attach the power pack.

"Your dress is pretty tight back here," he'd said. "Would you mind unzipping it a bit so I can have a little more room."

"Move," Deacon had bitten out, grabbing the power pack out of the kids' hands and stepping behind Rayna. He could just about hold it together while this little twerp ran his eager eyeballs all over his wife's tits, but he'd be damned if he was going to let the little perv touch her, too.

Rayna had used one hand to hold the dress against her chest and the other to slide the zipper down an extra inch to allow Deacon a bit more room to secure the power pack. The sound tech had silently handed him her earphones, and Deacon had plugged them in before draping them over her shoulders.

"Is that secure?" he'd asked quietly while she'd re-adjusted her dress.

"Yeah," she'd answered, her voice tense. "Thanks."

"Okay," Bucky had breathed out awkwardly, "Well...let's start walking.

Which is exactly how Deacon found himself stalking through the backstage area of the Bridgestone Arena, trying to keep up with his very pissed off wife. He was walking as closely behind her as possible, hoping to shield everyone's view of her ass. Not that it mattered. She'd be prancing around on stage...on national television, no less...in a matter of minutes, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it now. If he'd thought the dress looked inappropriate in the privacy of their own closet, he thought it looked down right indecent here with the bright, industrial lights of the arena highlighting all of that smooth, shiny skin Rayna had on display.

* * *

Deacon grabbed his guitar from a nearby roadie and made his way onto the stage. There was a house band playing the event, but most artists chose to bring a few of their regular band members on stage with them. Deacon always played lead guitar for Rayna, of course, and she also liked to bring along her own backup singers. She was a perfectionist when it came to her music, and she didn't want to take a chance that the house band would mess up the complicated harmonies that she had chosen for tonight's performance.

Landon Tyler had his own band he toured with, but he had not requested for anyone to join him, and Deacon strongly suspected that Landon didn't take a very active role in the creation of his music. Deacon had learned a long time ago that there was a very big difference between an artist and a performer, and he was confident that Landon fell into the second category.

Deacon plugged in his guitar and counted off the band, playing a few introductory chords to signal the beginning of their performance and get the crowd on their feet. Landon made his way onto the stage and the audience immediately jumped up and started shrieking.

"Hello, Nashville!" Landon screamed into the mic, amid the resounding applause. "Are y'all ready to party!?" he asked the crowd, holding the mic towards the audience. "Tonight, I got a very special, little lady who's gonna come out on stage and help me sing this song. That all right with y'all?" After waiting for more applause, Landon pointed towards stage left. "Everybody...Miss Rayna Jaymes!"

The crowd went wild as Rayna walked out onto the stage. She quickly hugged Landon and then addressed the audience. "Hey, y'all!" she greeted in her sugary, Southern drawl. "Thank you so much for having me on stage, Landon," she said, giving him her very best stage smile. "I'm so excited to be here, tonight, and I'm hoping this next song will help get y'all in the Christmas spirit."

Deacon was still annoyed that Landon had been given precedence over Rayna in tonight's line up. Rayna was a superstar. She'd been a major player in this industry for almost two decades. She had multiple platinum albums and a shelf full of prestigious awards. The network should have given her the respect she deserved by allowing her to be the main performer and designating this future, one-hit-wonder as _her_ guest. But because his single had been at the top of the charts for the last four months, Landon had been given priority. Sometimes, the politics of this business really pissed him off.

Rayna gave Deacon a subtle nod, and he transitioned chords, signaling the band to begin the song. She started belting out the first verse while Landon strutted around the stage in a ridiculous fashion that, for some reason, had all the girls in the first few rows throwing their hands up and squealing. Rayna was giving it her all on stage just like she always did, and Landon was strutting around her spitting a bunch of "yeah, yeah, yeahs" into the microphone like a speech-impaired toddler.

Deacon had suggested they perform Hard Candy Christmas. It was one of their favorite Christmas songs, and he and Rayna had come up with a beautiful arrangement that was not only melancholy but also a little sultry. They'd performed it every night during the November and December dates of her "Little Bits of Heaven" tour back in 2008, and it had been a huge fan favorite. Plus, Dolly had always had a soft spot for the two of them, and he knew she'd get a kick out of them performing one of her songs at such an important event.

Rayna had agreed that it would be a perfect choice for tonight, but when Bucky had reached out to Landon's team, they had rejected the song. Landon had wanted to perform a more upbeat number that he could "infuse with his signature hip hop flavor." Which Deacon had thought was real big talk coming from a "musician" who didn't know how to play a single instrument.

Rayna smoothly finished off the second chorus and then Landon moved into his little white boy rap. He sidled up a little too closely to Rayna and started the bridge:

"I'll slide down your chimney

and bring you lots of joy

what I got for you, mama

it ain't just a toy"

Landon moved closer to Rayna, and Deacon grit his teeth in annoyance. Rayna took a few steps back, but Landon followed right behind, placing a hand on her hip to keep her in place. Rayna looked out into the audience and gave one of her practiced stage laughs, and Deacon could tell she was uncomfortable with Landon's proximity.

"You can play with me, baby

I'll be your santa, too

'cos when the yule time's over

I showed you what to do"

Rayna subtly brushed off Landon's hand and started walking across the stage, playing out towards the crowd as she sang the last chorus. She held the high notes a little longer and dipped her voice slightly on the last line before moving into the final verse. The crowd was completely in sync with her, and she knew it.

Landon come up behind Rayna and draped his arm across her shoulders, pulling her closer to him as he began his final rap:

"It ain't just a toy

that I've got for you

so much joy

lots of cheer for you"

Rayna was rocking her hips subtly with the music, and Deacon felt a blinding flash of rage as Landon started grinding his hips behind her. Rayna placed her hand on Landon's chest and began walking backwards away from him, putting a little sway in her hips so that it looked like part of their performance.

"I'll be your santa baby

playing lots and lots of games

when I've toyed with you baby

things won't be the same"

Landon followed Rayna across the stage, once again pulling her close so they could share his microphone while they both sang the tag:

"I'll be your santa, baby," he sang, holding his hands out, pretending to rub them over Rayna's curves.

"Oh, you can be my Santa," Rayna harmonized.

"Yeah, I'll be your santa, baby," Landon grunted into the mic, "and when I've toyed with you things just won't be the same."

The music swelled and finally the song was over. Rayna stepped away from Landon and raised her hand towards the crowd, thanking them graciously before walking offstage. Landon took his turn thanking the audience and then finally exited the stage, allowing Deacon to unplug his guitar and walk off stage, as well.

He hurried down the steps and handed his guitar off to a roadie while his eyes sought out Rayna. She was standing just off stage accepting congratulations from a small group of people. He quickly walked in her direction but before he could reach her, Landon sauntered over and pulled her into an over-enthusiastic hug.

"Oh my god, baby, you killed it up there!" Deacon overheard him saying. Landon started moving his hands all over Rayna's lower back, and Deacon clenched his fists in anger.

"Thank you," Rayna said nervously, carefully extracting herself from the hug and subtly taking a few steps backwards. "It was a lot of fun," her eyes caught Deacon's and she called out a tight, "Hey, babe!" in his direction. He knew her signals. She was uncomfortable and wanted him to rescue her. He quickly stepped past Landon and wound his arm possessively around Rayna's waist.

"Landon," he said, gritting his teeth.

"Freakin' Deacon!" Landon greeted loudly. "You were awesome up there," he continued in his smarmy voice, "thanks for helping us out tonight."

"No problem," Deacon nodded tightly.

"And this one!?" he eyes raked lecherously over Rayna's curves. "That was one hell of a performance," Landon said, not even trying to hide the fact that he was imagining her without that damn dress on. "You were smokin' hot up there, baby."

Deacon drew in a deep, angry breath and his hand tightened on Rayna's waist.

"Anytime you feel like sharing her," Landon winked lewdly in Deacon's direction, "you just let me know." He grabbed Rayna's hand and pulled it towards his lips, "I will gladly perform with you anytime you want."

Rayna pulled her hand back and forced out a smile that was more grimace than anything.

"You're a lucky man, Deacon Claybourne," Landon held his hand out for some sort of weird, high five/bro handshake combination, and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "If I were you, I wouldn't let her out of my sight."

Rayna shot Deacon an anxious look, silently begging him to keep his cool.

"Yeah," Deacon bit out, ignoring Landon's outstretched hand and quickly steering Rayna towards the backstage area. He could feel Landon watching them and knew exactly where his eyes were located so he nudged Rayna in front of him and fell in step behind her.

They walked purposefully through the back of the arena, and Rayna said nothing when Deacon grabbed her elbow and pulled her down an empty, dimly lit hallway. He tried the first door they came across but it was locked, so he quickly moved to the second door which opened to a small, dark closet. He ushered her in first and then closed and locked the door behind them.

"Deacon," she started, her voice tense and nervous.

"Rayna," he warned, stepping towards her and pushing her up against the wall. "I'm done arguing about this damn dress." He wound his hands into her hair and pulled her towards him for an intense, aching kiss.

* * *

Lyrics are from: "I'll Be Your Santa, Baby" by Rufus Thomas

I do not own Nashville. Or this song.


	2. Chapter 2

Rayna was trapped between the wall and her very hot, _very_ pissed off husband. And she wasn't complaining one bit. He kissed her hard and fast, his tongue moving roughly against hers, and she whimpered in pleasure. He pulled back just a fraction and stared at her, his gaze heated and intense. She was panting from his feverish kisses, and his eyes dropped to her heaving breasts.

"That son of a bitch was all over you," he whispered angrily.

"So?" she asked, a challenge in her eyes.

Deacon had always had a hot-tempered jealous streak when it come to her, and it had gotten him into trouble more times than not. But right now they were holed up in a tiny closet hidden away from everyone else. He had her pressed up against a wall, his rock hard erection digging into her hip, and she really wanted to see just how far she could push him.

"So!?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "He doesn't get to look at you like that, Rayna!" he spat angrily. "None of them get to look at you like that."

She threw her head back against the wall and raised her chin defiantly. "He was just looking," she argued. "It's not like he touched me."

"Are you kiddin' me?" he spat. "He was pawing all over you! He was practically dry humping you up there on that stage. You're my wife," he hissed. "You're _mine_. And he doesn't get to do that."

"Yours?" her eyes sparked dangerously.

"Yeah, Rayna," he answered, his voice steely and intense. "_Mine_."

Her eyes clouded with lust. Deacon's possessiveness could infuriate her at times. But it never failed to get her completely drenching wet. She wanted him to take control. She wanted him to claim her.

Her eyes raked over his face, and she licked her lips. "Prove it," she challenged.

She watched the anger and arousal flare in his eyes as he slammed his mouth back down on hers. She moaned against his lips as he kissed her with everything he had, fisting his hands in her hair. He captured her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down lightly. He pulled back and stared at her for a long moment, his expression dark and flinty before dropping his hands to the hem of her dress. His eyes never left hers as he roughly pushed the fabric up over her hips, hooked his fingers into the lacy edge of her thong, and yanked it down her legs before tossing it carelessly to the floor. His hands moved down her naked thighs, pulling her legs up around his waist, and she immediately began rubbing herself against the hard, heavy length of his erection.

He quickly glanced around the closet. In the near darkness, he could just make out a pile of rolling trunk cases. There was a large amp case that looked to be just the right height.

With her legs gripping his waist, he spun them around and dropped her on top of the trunk. She gasped as the cool metal of the case touched her bare ass, and he used the opportunity to kiss her once again. His mouth moved quickly from her lips to her neck, and he placed hot, open-mouth kisses all over her collarbone and the tops of her breasts.

"Please, babe," she gasped, her hips rocking frantically against him

He dropped his hand down to her center, and he groaned when he felt her arousal.

"_Christ_, Rayna," he rasped, sinking his fingers into her tight heat. "You're so fucking wet."

"For you, babe," she answered, her voice breathless with need. "Only for you."

He slowly slid his fingers in and out, curling them at just the right angle, and she let out a wet, shaky moan that was a little too loud given their current location.

"You like that, baby?" he whispered. "You like when I touch you?"

"Mmhmm," she moaned, biting down hard on her lip.

"I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this, Rayna," he reminded her. "I'm the only one who gets to make you come."

"Yes," she gasped. She reached for his belt and he allowed her to unbuckle it. She carefully unzipped him and used both of her hands to push his jeans and boxers down past his hips. His dick sprang free, and she wasted no time reaching for it, stroking him with her hands.

"Please," she begged.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked, his fingers still moving mercilessly inside her.

"You," she husked. "I want you."

He gently removed his fingers and took a step back, bringing his own hand to his erection and stroking himself with her juices. Her vision blurred at the image of him pleasuring himself, his dick shiny with her arousal. He hooked his hand underneath her knee and pulled her leg up around his waist. He lined himself up to her center and in one swift motion, he entered her fully. They both groaned loudly, savoring the intimate connection. His hips began pumping into her, and the pleasure coursed through her body hard and fast. She could tell from the frenzied look in his eyes that this would be quick. Her hands were gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his black blazer, and she dropped one hand down his chest and reached between her legs.

"No," he grunted, angrily brushing her hand away.

"Please, babe," she begged. "I'm so close. I need..."

"You don't get to make yourself come," he rasped. "No one gets to make you come except me."

"Are you punishing me?" she asked, breathlessly.

"I _should_ punish you," he spat, his hips moving faster against hers. "I should put you over my damn knee."

She shuddered with pleasure, her inner walls clenching hard around his dick. He buried his face in her neck and groaned loudly. His hands gripped her hips hard.

"You gonna spank me?" she gasped. Just the idea of him punishing her drove her right to the edge of an orgasm. The thought of him putting his hands on her like that...imagining the rough spanks and the sharp bite of pain...had her incredibly aroused.

"I should," he gasped. "And next time you wear something like this...parade yourself around for everyone to see," he pulled her hips towards him and thrust deeply inside of her, "_I will_."

She moaned loudly, her walls fluttering around him, and he dropped his hand to her clit. He stroked her quickly. _Expertly_. She threw her head back, the pleasure surging through her, as she came hard and fast in his arms. She felt him shudder against her, his own climax overtaking him.

"_Fuck_," he moaned, his dick pulsing deep within her as he rode out his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither one of them moved, their breathing ragged and their cheeks flushed, while he rested inside of her. Her arms were clutched around his back and his head rested against her shoulder.

Finally, he took a step backwards, gently sliding out of her. He helped her step down from the trunk case and gave her that sweet, shy smile she loved so much. Leaning forward, she place a surprisingly chaste kiss on his lips. He quickly fixed his pants and picked up her discarded thong. He knelt in front of her, and she placed her hands on his shoulders for balance, carefully stepping into her panties. He gently pulled them up her legs and placed a soft kiss on her thigh before standing up and helping her pull her dress back down over her hips.

"How does my hair look?" she asked, quickly running her hands through her slightly disheveled curls.

"Pretty good, considering," he chuckled. "I actually didn't mess it up too bad this time."

"Well, I don't know if I believe that," she teased, watching him fasten his belt and straighten out his blazer. "I need to get back out there," she sighed. "Bucky's probably looking for me as we speak."

"Alright, baby," he pulled her towards him for one more quick kiss. "You go out first. You still need to get changed for the after party. I'll wait here for a few minutes, and then I'll come find you."

"See you out there," she winked, opening the door and stepping out into the hall.

* * *

Bucky stood outside the closet door and checked his watch for the second time. It had been seventeen minutes since Deacon had pulled Rayna into that closet, and he was still waiting for them to emerge. Bucky leaned against the wall and rolled his eyes. As much as these two valued their privacy, they had never managed to be very discrete.

Sure, they weren't as bad now as they had been when he'd first starting working for Rayna, back when she was in her early twenties and her second album had been tearing up the country music charts. But all these years later, they still had a habit of _disappearing_ at the most inopportune times, and Bucky would be stuck waiting outside of a dressing room, an empty recording booth, or, most recently, her office. As if closing all the blinds at 3:30pm on a Thursday afternoon only to emerge half an hour later, disheveled and smiling like loons, had fooled anyone.

From a PR perspective, a story about these two getting it on in a storage closet wasn't the worst scandal possible. After all, they were married. _To each other_, thank the good lord. And the fans absolutely loved Deacon and Rayna. They ate up every single detail of their epic romance. A story about these two getting all hot and bothered and sneaking off for a little post-performance nookie might even gain them some favorable press. For all their lack of subtly, though, Bucky knew they would both be mortified if their daughters ever read an item in the gossip columns about their parents having a quick and dirty romp backstage.

Bucky heard the lock on the door click open. At least they'd actually remembered to lock the door this time. Years ago, they'd all been celebrating Rayna's first Grammy nomination at some random bar. Halfway through the night, Bucky had wandered into the restroom and found Deacon and Rayna frantically going at it against the sink. Thankfully, they'd been partially hidden behind a wall, but Bucky had still seen Deacon's naked ass and Rayna's ankle hooked over Deacon's shoulder. And that was just _way_ more than he'd ever needed to see.

Bucky quickly glanced around to see if there was anyone else close by. There were a few people milling about, but no one seemed to be looking in his direction. Rayna stepped out of the closet and stopped short, obviously surprised to see Bucky standing there.

"Oh," she gasped, her voice an octave higher than normal. "Hey, Buck!" she said nervously. "I didn't realize you were out here."

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a weary look, "We need to get over to the press area, Ray. There's a lot of important people you need to speak to tonight."

"Yeah, I know," she blushed, quickly running a hand through her hair, "I'm sorry, I was just..."

The closet door was yanked open again, and Deacon stepped out into the hallway. He'd waited to leave a whole ten seconds after Rayna and was still tucking his shirt back into his jeans.

"Oh, hey, Buck," Deacon smirked, barely able to contain his smug, happy grin. "Sorry," he apologized in a voice that was anything but contrite. "I just needed to talk to Ray for a second."

Bucky gave Deacon an unimpressed look and pushed himself off the wall.

"You have lipstick on your face," he said dryly, gently taking Rayna's elbow and steering her towards the media room. Behind them, Deacon chuckled softly, quickly wiping a hand over his face.

* * *

Deacon walked into the men's room and was relieved to see that he was alone. He ran his hand over his face, making sure there were no traces of Rayna's lipstick. His fingers still smelled of her. Satisfied that there was no lipstick on his face or neck, he turned on the facet and began washing his hands. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and thought about what had happened in the storage closet.

Rayna had always been a fantastic lay. The best he'd ever had. And all their years together had done nothing to dull that spark between them. She was passionate and responsive and game for anything. Like a quick and dirty fuck in a utility closet when there were at least a hundred people milling about on the other side of the door.

She also loved dirty talk. A fact that he'd been all too happy to discover all those years ago when they had first become lovers. As with everything in life, Rayna gave just as good as she got. But they'd never talked about something like _that _before. He'd never used the word _punished_ before. Even the word itself made him cringe a little. Partly because it sounded like a word that belonged in one of those bodice-ripping, lady porn, romance novels that Scarlett had sometimes teased her mama for reading. But more importantly, because he'd grown up in a violent home where his drunk daddy had never understood the difference between appropriate childhood discipline and outright physical abuse.

He'd never once hit Rayna. Not in a playful, sexual scenario. Not ever.

Years ago, he'd been blacked-out drunk, and Rayna had tried shaking him awake. His elbow had smacked into her face and left her with a nasty black eye. It had been an accident, but it had utterly shaken him to his core. To this day, he felt absolutely sick whenever he thought about that. It had been the wake up call he needed to sober up and head to rehab for the first time and just thinking about Rayna's bruised face had been enough to keep him sober for almost eight months before he'd fallen off the wagon.

He knew this was different, but the idea of hurting her still scared him.

He wondered how serious Rayna had been when she'd asked him if he'd punish her. He wondered if she'd just gotten caught up in the moment, or if it was something she actually wanted to explore.

Their sex life had always been wild. He didn't think there was a single position they hadn't tried at some point during their relationship, and Rayna had always loved the excitement of making love in semi-public places. The thrill of potentially getting caught always got her hot and bothered. Hell, they'd even experimented with some of the kinkier stuff. Like the time Rayna had walked out of their closet with a handful of her expensive, silk scarves and asked him to tie her to their bed. Or the time they'd role played in that dive bar in San Antonio where they'd pretended to be strangers. Rayna had come up with a fake name and a surprisingly detailed backstory, and he'd quickly followed suit. They'd spent half the night flirting and drinking cheap tequila before she'd subtly worked her hand into his jeans and jerked him off right there in the back booth of that noisy, biker bar.

Whether or not Rayna had been serious when she'd asked him to spank her, he couldn't ignore just how much the idea of it had turned her on. Hell, just the way she'd soaked his dick when he'd said the word made it perfectly clear just how much the thought of being punished excited her.

Deacon blew out a shaky breath as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. As much as the idea made him nervous, he was a little disturbed to realize how much it turned him on, too.

* * *

Deacon slowly made his way through the backstage area of the Bridgestone. He chatted briefly with a few friends, shook hands with some industry people he knew, and posed for a selfie with a group of fans wearing backstage passes.

He walked into the media room and immediately made his way to the bar. He ordered a club soda, and his eyes scanned the room while he waited. He spotted her almost immediately. Rayna was standing near the center of the room, chatting with a group of older, well-dressed men while Bucky made introductions.

He was surprised to see that she was still wearing the same dress. Rayna always changed after her performances. Especially now that she owned Highway 65. She felt it was important to make the distinction between artist and business woman. Which made it doubly confusing that she was back here schmoozing with all of these important media executives looking for all the world like she'd just jumped out of a damn cake.

The bartender handed him his drink, and Deacon nodded his thanks. He leaned back against the bar and watched his wife. There were few people who could work a room like Rayna. Her good breeding was apparent in her impeccable manners, and her natural charm made everyone she spoke to feel like they were the most important person in the room. She was talented, smart and confident, and she could've had her pick of any man she wanted. He was damn lucky to have her, and he knew it.

They were partners. In all aspects of their lives. He loved that Rayna was such a strong and capable woman. But knowing that she wanted to relinquish control in the bedroom...that she wanted to submit to him…_sexually_...was unbelievably arousing.

He could just picture her all laid out for him. Her beautiful, naked body on display. He could picture his hands. Moving all over that beautiful, naked body. Spanking the plump curve of her ass.

Deacon wondered how rough she'd want to play. They'd enjoyed their fair share of rough sex over the years, and Rayna had never been one to back down. She'd loved every single minute of it. He was starting to wonder if she'd love this, too.

Deacon shook his head lightly and took another sip of his drink. He began making his way through the crowd and decided it was time to push those thoughts out of his mind. He was a little frightened by how much he wanted Rayna to want this. By how much he wanted her to love it.

He wrapped his arm around Rayna's waist and politely greeted the group of men chatting with her. They complimented his performance and then excused themselves. Bucky turned around to speak with someone behind them, and Deacon leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"I thought you were gonna change, baby."

"Decided not to," she said, smiling benignly at the people walking past them. "You seemed to like this dress."

"I do like the dress," he said quietly. "I just don't like you wearing it here. Around all these people."

"Mmhmm," she hummed. "And you made it very clear what you would do if I kept it on," she continued. "If I paraded myself around in front of all these people."

"Ray," he said, unable to tell if he meant it as a warning or a question. "I didn't tell you to keep this dress on," he argued. "That's not what I wanted."

Her eyes slowly raked over his face. "Isn't it?" she challenged.

"Rayna?" Bucky called expectantly, motioning for her to join him.

Deacon swallowed hard as she stepped in front of him. He recognized that same heated look in her eyes from earlier. Rayna wanted to be punished.


	3. Chapter 3

Ranya stood patiently near the backstage exit, waiting for Deacon. The after party was finally winding down, and he'd returned to her dressing room to retrieve their coats. A stagehand would deliver her garment bag and the rest of their equipment the next day but for right now, they were both eager to get home.

"Here you go, baby," Deacon said walking towards her, already wearing his black pea coat. He held her coat open, and she slid her arms through the sleeves. She shrugged the coat up over her shoulders, and his hands slid down to her hips while she fastened the buttons.

"You ready to go home?" he asked.

She nodded her head and turned towards him, planting a light kiss on his lips. "Let's get out of here," she whispered.

Deacon placed his hand protectively on the small of her back and led her out into the cold, night air. They waited patiently for the town car to pull up, and he held her door as she climbed inside. He quickly walked around the car and slid in beside her. The network had provided transportation for those performing, and she was grateful for that. If they had been alone, they might have filled the silence with casual conversation, discussing their performance or the mundane details of the night, and she didn't want that. She didn't want to lose the exquisite tension that was building between the two of them right now.

Rayna knew he was hesitant. That he was unsure how far she wanted to take this. That he was unsure how far_ he_ wanted to take this. But she longed to hear his voice, rough and demanding, telling her what to do. She longed to feel his hands on her, spanking her. Punishing her.

Rayna loved rough sex. She always had.

Sometimes, their love-making was gentle. They would slowly tease each other. Touching. Tasting. Cherishing each other's bodies. But sometimes, like earlier tonight, it was rough and hard and fast, and she loved that, too. Even when things were frenzied, he always paid attention. Always watched her carefully and made sure that she was right there with him. That they were both mutually satisfied.

There had been many times when he'd pulled her hair a little too roughly or squeezed her hips so hard that he'd left dark, finger-tip shaped bruises on her skin. But that little bit of pain had always done something for her. She loved when he would grab her wrists and hold her hands above her head as their hips moved together. Or when he would bite her nipples a little too hard right before she came. That little slip of pain had always increased the pleasure, and the rush of adrenaline had always sent her hurtling towards a long and powerful climax.

They made good time despite the traffic and before she knew it, the driver was pulling up to their house. Deacon thanked him and then came around to her side of the car and helped her out. She waited patiently for him to unlock the door, and then he ushered her inside.

Rayna was grateful the girls weren't here tonight. Maddie was out of town with some friends and Daphne was at a sleepover. They loved their girls more than anything, but it was always a treat to have a little privacy, and she had a feeling they would need it tonight.

They walked quietly into the kitchen, and she placed her purse and gloves on the counter. She heard Deacon closing and locking the door behind him and noticed that he didn't turn on the lights. The soft glow of the Christmas tree provided the only light in the house, and the darkness increased the tense, expectant vibe between them.

She turned towards Deacon and saw him staring at her intently, his eyes dark and heated. She remained quiet, watching him. Willing him to take control.

Finally, after a long, breathless moment, he reached out and caressed his finger over her cheek. His hand dropped down to the top button of her coat and he slowly slipped it through the hole. His eyes remained on hers as his hands worked their way down, deftly unfastening each one of her buttons.

"Take it off," he said, his voice quiet and authoritative.

She immediately obeyed, pulling the coat off and tossing it over a bar stool. She felt almost delirious with anticipation, and she squeezed her thighs together, relishing the hot pulse of desire she felt between her legs.

"I want you to go into the bedroom," he said in that gravely voice that always made her so damn wet. "I want you to stand in front of the sofa, and I want you to wait for me."

Without a word, she turned and walked towards the bedroom.

* * *

Deacon stood at the kitchen counter and took a deep breath, trying to calm both his nerves and his raging hard on. He wanted this. He knew she wanted it, too. Maybe even more so than he did. But at the same time, it made him nervous. They'd never really explored the line between pain and pleasure, and the idea of deliberately hurting her went against every fiber of his being.

There was also a complicated power dynamic at play here. He enjoyed the idea of her submitting to him. Giving him control in the bedroom when she so rarely relinquished control in any other area of her life. He wanted so badly to get this right. Wanted so badly to make sure that she loved this.

Any nerves he had, though, were over-powered by the delectable thought of her, standing in their bedroom, waiting for him to take control. Waiting for him to fuck her.

Deacon dropped his coat on the kitchen counter and shrugged out of his blazer. He slowly emptied his pockets and with one last, deep breath, he made his way to the bedroom. He stepped through the bedroom door and his breath caught at the site of her. She was standing in front of the sofa just as he'd told her to, her eyes bright with desire. He quietly closed the door behind him and moved towards the sofa, sitting down directly in front of Rayna. He stared at her for a long moment, allowing the tension to build. Her cheeks were flushed and her breasts were rising and falling with her labored breaths. He could see how aroused she was and that excited him even more than he thought possible.

She didn't say a word. She simply stared at him, waiting for his command.

"Unzip your dress," he said, quietly. "Slowly." he added. "I want to see what's mine."

He heard her small, sharp intake of breath. She moved her right hand to the top of the zipper and slowly pulled it down, revealing inch after inch of naked skin until he saw the sheer red lace of her thong.

"All the way," he encouraged.

She used both hands to finish unzipping the dress and let it slowly fall away from her body, pooling on the floor behind her. His eyes raked over her body, her auburn curls fell temptingly over her shoulders, and her heavy naked breasts accentuated the slender curve of her waist.

"Now your panties."

She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and slowly slid them down her legs, bending at the waist and keeping her legs perfectly straight as she pulled them down to her ankles, her back arching dramatically. She was putting on quite the show for him. He always thought she was sexy. But seeing her like this...posing for him. Teasing him. It was almost too much for him to handle. She stood up, flipping her hair over her shoulder and gingerly stepping out of her panties, careful not to let them catch on the spiky heels of her shoes and used her foot to fling them out of the way.

Her panties were soaked. Partly from their earlier activities backstage and partly from how aroused she was right now. He wanted to touch her. To stroke her hot, wetness with his fingers and feel just how excited she was. His dick pulsed in anticipation.

She stood before him without a stitch of clothing, looking all the more naked for the dangling gold earrings and sky high red stilettos that she still wore.

"Come here, baby," he instructed. "I want you to lay down on my lap."

She stepped towards him, placing her knee on the sofa next to his right leg and carefully stretching out across his lap. Her elbows rested on the sofa cushion, and her ass hovered above his leg.

"Like this?" she asked, a little uncertainly. He carefully pulled on her left leg, laying it flat against the sofa. She kept her elbows planted on the sofa but shifted her weight so that her stomach rested fully across his lap. He gently pulled her other leg up on the sofa as well but positioned it a little further away so that her legs were spread apart. Her full breasts were pressed into his left leg and her hips were resting on his right leg.

She was so beautiful he could barely breathe. Her thick curls tumbled over the edge of the sofa. Her beautiful, tempting body was laying across his lap, naked expect for those sexy as fuck red high heels. All that gorgeous, creamy skin on display for his eyes only.

"You comfortable, Ray?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered quickly, her voice breathy and anxious.

He touched the skin at the base of her neck and slowly moved his hand all the way down her spine, over her ass, and down the back of her thigh. She squirmed when his hand brushed against the sensitive, ticklish skin on the back of her knee, unintentionally rubbing herself against his straining erection.

"_Fuck_," he gasped in surprise. His hips inadvertently jerked towards her body, his dick desperate for contact. He moved his hand back up her thigh, and her ass twitched minutely when his hand passed over it. He knew the anticipation was killing her. They'd never done anything like this before, and he knew she was just as curious as he was to she how she'd react. "You're so beautiful," he breathed. He pulled his hand back, and her entire body tensed, anticipating the hit.

"You sure, Ray?"

"Yes," she yelped, nervously.

He quickly brought his hand down on her ass, his nerves getting the better of him and causing him to pull back just slightly before his palm made contact. It was a soft slap, but the sound of flesh hitting flesh was louder than they'd expected and they both jumped slightly.

"Ray?" he asked, carefully searching her face and unable to breathe as he waited uneasily for her reaction. "You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice wavering a little.

She opened her eyes slowly, her expression dazed with arousal, and turned to face him. Her breasts heaved against his leg. "Oh, I deserve much worse than that," she breathed out, her voice dripping with lust. "I was very, _very_ bad."

Her words slammed into his chest, and suddenly his dick was so hard that it ached. She held his stare for a long moment before resting her head on the sofa and closing her eyes, signaling for him to continue. He stared at her face for a long moment until he felt her squirm against his lap. His eyes moved back down to her ass, and he noticed a light, pink mark that his hand had left. He placed his hand reverently over the mark and began gently massaging it. Rayna whimpered softly, and he knew she was impatient for him to continue. He lifted his hand and landed a hard strike on her other cheek. He didn't use his full strength, but the slap was much harder than the first one. Rayna let out a loud groan and ground her hips against his leg.

Deacon began massaging her ass again, moving his hand over one cheek and then the other. Rayna pushed her ass back against his hand, and he knew what she wanted. He allowed his fingers to dip between her legs, and he bit back a groan when he felt the slick, wet heat of her sex.

"_Jesus Christ_," he rasped. He slowly slid his middle finger all the way inside of her, and she clenched down, wiggling her hips. He moved his finger in and out very slowly before gently adding his index finger as well. She groaned deeply and began pumping her hips back against his hand. He allowed her to ride his fingers for just a moment, marveling at the sight in front of him. Her eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure and her hot juices were dripping down his fingers. He slowly pulled his hand away, and she whimpered in frustration.

"Please," she gasped.

"You don't really think I'm gonna let you come that easily do you?" he asked. "After the way you behaved tonight?"

She made a small, frustrated sound but kept her eyes tightly closed. He placed his hand on her ass, rubbing the wetness from his fingers over the mark his hand had left earlier. He landed a hard slap on the wet, flushed skin. The moisture amplified the sound of his hand hitting her flesh, and he knew it had intensified the sting of the slap as well.

"_Oh_," she gasped loudly, a shudder of pleasure rippling through her body. His hand moved between her legs, and he quickly dipped his finger inside her, dragging the wetness up towards her clit and gently stoking the sensitive bundle of nerves. She was breathing heavily, and her hips were quivering against his leg.

"Don't move," he said. "I want you to stay perfectly still." His finger circled her clit before gently rolling it between his finger and thumb. "If you move, I'll stop."

She groaned and fisted her hands in frustration, but she kept her hips completely still. He patiently stroked her clit, his feather-light touches teasing her. _T__orturing_ her. She lay perfectly still on top of him, her body tense with the effort to not move.

"You're not allowed to come until I tell you to come," he said. "Do you understand?" He raised his hand, landing a loud slap against the bottom, meaty part of her ass. Her hands remained clenched and she was biting down on her lip so hard he was afraid it would bleed. But she never moved. "Do you understand?" he asked sternly, roughly slapping her other cheek.

"Yes," she screamed, her voice ragged with arousal.

"Good girl," he hummed, massaging his hand over her tender ass. "I think you deserve a little reward, don't you?"

"Please," she gasped. The sound of her asking for him..._needing_ him…always turned him on. But right now she was damn near begging, and he wasn't quite sure how he was able to control his own desire. All he knew for sure was that he wasn't ready for this to end just yet. He wanted to tease her a little bit longer. His fingers moved to her opening, and he slowly pushed them inside of her. She moaned, low and guttural, as his fingers sank into her tight, wet heat. He slowly pulled them out and slid them back in. Her ass twitched and he knew she was concentrating very hard on not moving. He rewarded her by curling his fingers against that hidden place inside of her that always drove her insane with pleasure.

"_Oh_," she cried out.

"Is that what you want, baby?" he asked.

"No," she cried out.

"No?" he asked calmly, gently pulling his fingers out and landing another loud hit against the bottom curve of her ass. "What do you want, Ray?" he asked.

"I want you to make me come," she gasped. He pulled his hand back and landed another sharp slap on her other cheek, and she gasped for breath.

"How do you want me to make you come, baby?"

"Fuck me," she begged, her voice breathy and strained. "Please. I need you to fuck me."

"_Fuck_," he moaned, marveling at the fact that he didn't lose it in his jeans right at that very moment. Rayna loved to talk dirty, but she didn't often curse and hearing her beg was just about the sexiest thing he'd ever heard.

"Get on your knees, Ray," he husked. She kept her elbows planted on the sofa and carefully drew her knees up underneath her so that he could move behind her.

"Goddamn, baby" he groaned, barely able to believe the sight in front of him. She was balanced on her elbows and knees, her back arched and her legs spread giving him a completely uninhibited view. Her ass was flushed red where he had spanked her and her sex was wet and swollen with arousal. "You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my entire life," he growled, yanking his belt buckle open. "I can't believe I'm the lucky son of a bitch who gets to see you like this," he said, pulling his erection out of jeans and lining himself up against her hot, wet entrance. "I can't believe I'm the one who gets to love you like this." He placed one hand on her ass and the heat of her inflamed skin radiated through his palm. He pushed himself inside of her in one long, powerful thrust, and they both cried out in relief.

"Jesus Christ, Ray," he pumped into her furiously while she moved her hips backwards, meeting him thrust for thrust. "You feel so good, baby," he gasped. He felt her walls beginning to flutter around his dick.

"_Come_," he cried out, pulling his hand back and landing one last, resounding slap on her right ass cheek.

"Oh," she screamed, throwing her head back, her walls immediately clenching down on his dick with the force of her orgasm. Her hips began moving erratically, her body shuddering violently as she came. He bit down on his lip, and dug his fingers hard into her ass as he continued working his hips against hers, frantically chasing his own release.

"_Fuck_," he screamed as his vision blurred and a violent, powerful orgasm overtook him. The pleasure radiated throughout his body as he spilled his orgasm inside of her.

After a long moment, he slowly pulled out of her.

"Holy shit," he panted, stretching out on the sofa behind her and pulling her body in close to his. She snuggled back against him, and he gently stroked her hip while they both tried to catch their breath. The sofa was too small for him to comfortably stretch out on, but neither one of them wanted to move just yet. He was still fully clothed and seeing her completely naked body snuggled up against his was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen.

"No kidding," she said, her voice suddenly sounding tired. "That was amazing."

"You're amazing," he chuckled, curling around her body and planting a loving kiss against her shoulder.

* * *

Rayna grabbed the shams from the bed and carefully stacked them on the settee before pulling back the comforter and arranging the sheets and pillows just how she liked them. Her limbs felt wonderfully tired, and she couldn't wait to crawl into bed.

Deacon walked into the bedroom, his hair damp from their shower and his long, lean body as naked as the day he'd been born.

Once their breathing had returned to normal and she'd been able to use her legs again, she and Deacon had shared a long, lazy shower. He'd taken her favorite body wash and reverently soaped her entire body before she'd happily returned the favor. They'd giggled and flirted and run their hands all over each other's naked bodies for the sheer enjoyment of it. Once the water had begun to cool, they'd finally stepped out of the shower and dried themselves off before dropping their towels in the hamper and making their way back to the bedroom.

They always wore pajamas to bed when the girls were home but on the rare occasions they were alone, they allowed themselves the delicious luxury of sleeping naked. Being able to snuggle up together naked, with her bottom pressed against his crotch and their legs tangled together, sometimes felt even more intimate than making love.

"Lie down, baby," he nodded towards their bed. "Let me rub some of this on you," he said, holding a tube of body cream that she recognized from her vanity.

"What?" she asked, confused. "Why?"

"Your ass is still pretty red," he explained. "I thought this might feel good."

"Well, I certainly won't argue about a massage," she said climbing towards the center of the bed and lying down on her stomach.

"Maybe I should get you some ice," he mused. "I don't want you to bruise."

"I don't think I'll bruise."

"I don't know, Ray," he said quietly, straddling the backs of her thighs and allowing his weight to gently hover over her. "I hit you pretty hard," he opened the lotion and squeezed a generous amount into his hand. "You might have a hard time sittin' down tomorrow."

"Mmm, I hope so."

"Really?" he chuckled, sounding a little startled.

"Oh, yeah," she teased. "It'll be a sexy, little reminder of what we just did."

"You are just full of surprises, aren't you?" he laughed, rubbing the lotion between his palms. "I had no idea you were such a kinky little thing."

"Me, neither, babe," she answered. "But I sure did love what we just did."

His placed his hands on her ass, and she jumped a little when the cold lotion made contact with her tender, flushed skin.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Yeah, but it feels good," she answered.

He massaged her carefully. Gently rubbing his hands over her ass, up towards her lower back and then back down over her thighs, occasionally kneading his knuckles into her flesh and then smoothing his palms over her skin in long, firm strokes.

"You're so damn sexy, Ray," he said. "I can't even believe we just did that."

"Oh my god, I know!" she laughed happily. "It was so good, too," she said. "I don't think I've ever come that hard before."

"You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself," he chuckled. "You just keep on surprising me, baby. That was definitely new territory for us."

"It's fun to push the boundaries sometimes," she said. "Don't you think?"

"Yeah," his voice was quiet and a little hesitant.

She twisted around a bit and turned her face towards his. "Did _you _like it, babe?" she asked, earnestly.

"I really did," he answered, his eyes focused on her back. "More than I thought I would." He used his thumbs to massage the base of her spine and slowly worked his way up her back. "It was a little scary, though, wasn't it?" he asked. "I know it was for me."

"I wasn't scared," she said. "I knew you'd never hurt me. Not really. And I knew if I didn't like it, you'd stop right away." He finally made eye contact, and she smiled at him. "I trust you, Deacon," she said intently. "Completely."

His gave her a happy, relieved smile, "That means everything to me, Ray. You have no idea."

She laid back against the bed, wiggling her ass a bit as she got comfortable. "I'll have to wear that dress again sometime," she teased.

He pulled back, abruptly. "You wouldn't," he challenged, a horrified look on his face.

"If _that_ happens every single time," she said, nodding towards the sofa at the end of the bed, "You bet I will." She laughed happily. "That's my new favorite dress."

"You are a very, very bad girl," he hummed, placing gentle kisses over her ass and moving further down the bed. He reached for her thighs, parting them in a way that always made her stomach clench with desire, and settled between her legs.

"Only for you, babe," she gasped as he slowly slid his tongue inside of her. Teasing her. Tasting her. "Only for you."

* * *

This story is complete, but I'd love to hear y'alls suggestions for future stories. Thank you so much for the reviews! Y'all have no idea how motivating they are.


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